awe

Sirius Black is on your left—your boyfriend, your beautiful, reckless mistake of a love—and James Potter is on your right, with those golden brown eyes and that effortless grin that always lingers a moment too long.

They’re dressed for the party, both of them in open-collared dress shirts, ties loosened, cloaks discarded somewhere on a dusty sofa in the abandoned Astronomy classroom Sirius had dragged you into after the Gryffindor common room had become too loud.

You’d barely had time to ask what he was doing before he kissed you, hard and fast, only to pull away and glance behind you.

That’s when you saw James, closing the door with one hand, his mouth parted in disbelief.

Now, you’re caught between them in the dim candlelight. Sirius’s lips claim yours, hungry and territorial, while James trails soft, burning kisses down your neck, right where your pulse betrays you.

The thudding in your chest is deafening. The cool air of the castle seeps through the cracked window nearby, but your skin is flushed, feverish from the heat of their bodies.

Sirius still wears his signet ring, the same one he twisted nervously the first time he asked you out under the Quidditch stands. His all-black attire makes him look like sin wrapped in velvet.

James is the opposite—white button-down, sleeves rolled up, maroon tie hanging loose around his neck. He smells like firewhisky and something sweet, like the fruit punch he swears he didn’t spike.

You remember the party. You remember laughing with Lily, music pulsing through the common room, someone shouting about a drinking game.

But you don’t remember how you got here—back pressed to cold stone, breath stolen by Sirius’s kiss, hands fisting into James’s shirt as he groans softly against your collarbone.

Are you drunk?

You don’t feel drunk. You feel alive, aching, suspended in something you don’t quite understand. Your body moves like it remembers something your mind hasn’t caught up with yet—how it feels to be desired by both of them at once. How easy it is to let go of reason when Sirius is biting down on your lip and James is whispering something sinful against your ear.

You’re the center of their attention. Of their hunger. Of their want.

Their beauty is almost unearthly, and some part of you—hazy and overwhelmed—thinks maybe they don’t belong to this world. Maybe they’re not boys at all, but something else entirely. Maybe they fell for you like stars crash through the sky—bright, brief, and destined to burn.

And now they’re burning you from the inside out.

Wicked, beautiful, untouchable. Except you’re the one they’re touching now. The one they want. The one Sirius called mine before he looked James in the eye and whispered, only if you’re gentle.

And Merlin help you, James said yes.

“Keep your voice down,” your boyfriend warns in his gentle, seductive husky voice. “You can do that for us, can’t you, love?” His teeth grind against the skin of your neck, tasting the scent of your perfume with his tongue while his best friend goes down to his knees before you.

A pair of warm hazel eyes, flecked with gold and honey, look up at you through a tousled mess of dark curls.

James, cheeks tinged with rose like the first bloom of spring, gazes up at you with a longing so deep it steals the breath from your lungs—years of affection, buried and burning, now surfacing all at once.

His fingertips trace your thigh with a reverence that borders on worship, each touch sparking heat beneath your skin.

“Sweetheart…” he murmurs, voice thick with awe, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh as he wraps one arm around your leg, grounding himself in the moment.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl…”

The words fall from him like prayer—soft, aching, and meant only for you.

You chew on your lip to refrain yourself from making sound, giving your boyfriend two tiny nods to his earlier question. 

Sirius chuckles, his hand sliding down to cup one of your breasts over the fabric. Though your dress spills down to the floor in elegant waves, the high slit running along your thigh offers James easy access to you—something he takes full advantage of.

He kneels before you, eyes gleaming behind his glasses, and presses a trail of feather-light kisses along the length of your exposed leg.

“Merlin,” he breathes against your skin, voice low and reverent, “you’re so soft…”

His hand glides slowly up your thigh, fingers splayed, teasing, as if he's memorizing the feel of you—every inch, every breathless shiver under his touch.

before he settles his head between your thighs. “Your body is a dream. So beautiful…” His breath fans your skin, elevating the tiny hairs on your nape. 

“You’re like an angel.” The pet name and the praises he gives you feel just as foreign as the way he touches you, but James is only eager to make you feel at home.

“An angel?” Sirius snickers, his lips grazing your earlobe, his fingers curling around your throat. “What kind of an angel, are you, Sweetheart? Wanting another man’s face between your legs when you already have your boyfriend satisfying you all night. What, one cock isn’t enough for you, baby? Want my best friend to fuck you too, is that it?”

You can’t answer, your thighs quivering when you feel James kissing you over your underwear.

You’re much more sensitive as you never fantasized to be in such a position with the boy you shared hours of conversations with about your favorite books and he spilled his Quidditch strategies to you. 

James has always been attractive. You noticed that from the start—he was all charm and careless smiles, with eyes that lingered a little too long when he looked at you. It wasn’t exactly a secret, either. 

Everyone knew he had it bad for you, and James was never subtle about it. But you never paid it much attention. Not because you didn’t see it, but because Sirius knew—and didn’t care. If anything, he liked it. 

There was something twistedly satisfying to him about watching his best friend want the one thing only he could have.

You never thought of James that way before. He was always sweet, almost boyish—blushing at the idea of holding your hand. Innocent, in his own eager, golden-hearted way.

And yet now… now he’s on his knees in front of you, hands reverent, eyes dark with want. And there’s nothing innocent about him anymore.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” James says, professing the words like it’s a form of reassurance.

Your high heel slides down the floor when he separates his lips and presses his mouth hotly against the lace of your panties. You would’ve lost your balance if your boyfriend wasn’t there to catch you.

“Sensitive, are we?” Sirius croons, purring delightfully next to your ear as he moves to stand behind you. 

“What is it, honey? Does it feel good?” You weakly nod, biting the corner of your lip to contain your whimper. 

Sirius’s eyes glaze, his voice drops a pitch lower as he takes in your expression, loathing the fact that another man can make your face contort in pleasure. “He hasn’t even started yet.” He holds you close, his face hovering past your shoulder to lock gaze with the shorter male. 

“Isn’t that right, James?”

James, keeping his eyes on you, hugs your legs close and does a little mm-hmm as he mouths against your clothed heat. You softly whine, leaning your weight on your boyfriend’s chest. 

It’s funny how responsive you are right now, acting like this is the first time someone has performed oral sex on you when your boyfriend has done that almost every day since you started dating.

“Sirius…” you moan, your body flinching when you can feel the shape of James’s tongue gliding over the cloth. “What are we—What is happening?”

“We’re making your dreams come true,” he answers, his arm shifting down to grapple your leg. Lifting it high enough for your dress to slide to the side, Sirius exposes your thigh and your center at once.

“Show him, baby,” Sirius tells you. “Show him how fucking wet that pussy is.”

Your heart is hitched in your throat but you follow nonetheless. Reaching down, you push your panties to the side. 

“Good,” your boyfriend says. “Now, spread them apart.” With your cheeks burning brightly, you bring your other hand down, spreading your lower lips apart until James can see your dripping cunt, your entrance twitching in anticipation.

“Take a good look, James,” Sirius utters, his tone conceited and cold. “This is what you want. Been thinking about fucking my girl behind my back for a while, haven’t you, Prongs?”

James has the hardest time tearing his gaze away from you, but he manages. Exchanging stares with your boyfriend, he solemnly utters, “I wouldn’t have done this if you didn’t give me permission to touch her.”

“That’s right,” he smiles pompously, shooting one hand down to join your fingers, putting you on display. 

“This pretty cunt here belongs to me. You don’t get to taste it. You don’t get to fuck it unless I let you to. You’re only here because of me.” He dips his index finger deep inside your hole before he retrieves it and plunges it into your mouth. 

You whimper around his finger, tasting your own slick. “You better take good care of her. Better make her cum and lick her clean. Do that, and maybe I’ll forgive you for this. After all…” Sirius turns his face to the side, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheek. 

“I’m just here to please my girl. If she wants to be a fucking slut and have her holes stuffed with our cocks at the same time then I would gladly do it.”

Your boyfriend spreads your legs as wide as possible with one hand circling your waist protectively to keep you standing on your feet. “Go on,” Sirius urges, eyes gleaming dangerously as he peers down at the other man. 

“You want to fuck my girl’s cunt with your tongue, don’t you? Do it before I change my mind.”

James breathes out heavily. His fear, desire, and overwhelming thrill add pretty colors to his pale face. Sirius tells you to keep your hands where they are. 

James tentatively darts out his tongue, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, his nose bumping against your finger. He removes your hand, placing them on his head so you could guide him. 

His moan reverberates to your skin when he feels you tightening your hold around his curly strands, leaving his hair all disheveled. Now that he has more room to reach, James eagerly latches his mouth against your folds, tongue flicking obscenely before his lips close around your clit.

Your body jerks. “Ah—mmph!”

Sirius slaps one hand over your mouth, stopping your voice from thundering down the hallway. “Shhh,” he titters, stuffing two of his fingers inside and pressing them flat against your tongue. 

“You want people to catch us like this? I won’t mind if you ask me. I would love to fuck my girlfriend in front of everyone. Want them to see how good I am at making you cry out my name like a fucking little bitch you are.”

Moments like this make you realize that your boyfriend was never an angel. He’s been the devil, Lucifer himself, from day one. 

James’s little grunts are muffled against your skin, his cerulean eyes turning hazy as he watches your expression twist in pleasure. 

He sneaks one hand behind your leg, palm splayed against your calf before he guides you to rest your thigh on his shoulder. 

You’re now lifted off the ground, trusting your bodyweight entirely on the two males to fight against gravity. “sweetheart…” He bestows a gentle kiss on your clit, pulling away slightly just to replace his mouth with two of his fingers. 

Gliding them down over your folds, there’s a hint of curiosity and nervousness as he speaks his sentence. “Do I make you feel good?”

You’re not sure what to say. No, you’re not sure if you should speak at all as your boyfriend is right behind you. But Sirius removes his fingers from your mouth, your saliva dribbling down your chin as he frames your face and forces you to look down at James. 

“He asked you a question.” Sirius’s voice is just as melodious as it is perilous. You sink your teeth on your bottom lip, too afraid to be honest. “It’s only polite to reply.”

“B-but–”

“Answer him.”

“Yes,” you vocalize in a tattered breath. “Yes, it feels good.”

You expect your boyfriend to be upset, maybe curling his fingers around your throat a little harder to remind you who owns you but Sirius chuckles, saying, “That’s my good girl,” as he grants you a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Now, relax, love. I want you to enjoy everything while it lasts.”

James, encouraged by your answer, dives down to taste you again, this time focusing more on abusing your already swollen clit. Your hand tugs harder against his roots as your hips start to move on your own.

“Aah, look at you,” Sirius says, drawing your earlobe between his teeth. “Riding his face like that… Just how much you’ve been thinking about this, hmm?” His hand slips under the garment of your dress, taking possession of your breast and squeezing it until your whole body jolts. 

“Filthy whore,” he growls, teeth-gritting as he says it.

He’s angry. Even if he pretends he isn’t, there’s no denying it. He’s swallowed by the rage of seeing another man pleasuring his girlfriend right before his eyes but he doesn’t do anything to stop it. 

He keeps holding one of your legs in the air, commanding him, “Fuck her with your tongue. If you can’t make her squirt, I won’t let you fuck her.”

James groans, the dazed look on his face morphs slightly into a glare, vexed by his words. He retracts his fingers, stretching your pussy’s lips as wide apart as possible, tongue darting out to tease your entrance before he plunges it inside your hole. 

Your body lurches forward, eyebrows stitched together in pleasure. You have one hand clawing against your boyfriend’s shirt, your reaction fueling the jealousy raging in his chest but Sirius simply tilts up his chin, an arrogant smile breaking upon his lips.

“That’s the spirit, James,” he says, a moment before he sinks his teeth against the spot that connects your neck to your shoulder, rewarding you with the pain while James tortures you with pleasure. “Keep it up. I want to see her cum all over your face.”

James doesn’t have Sirius’s practiced touch—the kind born of years of experience and confidence—but what he lacks in finesse, he more than makes up for in sheer, devoted eagerness. There’s something dangerous in that kind of want. Desperate to please, desperate to unravel you.

And when he slides two fingers inside you, thrusting with an intensity that betrays how badly he’s imagined this, how long he’s wanted it—it takes no time at all before your body begins to tremble.

“Ah—Sirius…” you gasp, voice catching as your knees buckle beneath the weight of pleasure. Your hand shoots out blindly, grasping at Sirius’s arm like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

“I’m—I’m about to cum—James—“

Sirius grabs your face, smashing your mouths together and kissing you harder than he’s ever been before you can finish pronouncing the word. 

“Don’t say his name,” he growls, squeezing your cheeks together with one hand as the knots inside your belly grow taut. “You either scream my name or nothing at all. Understand?” The sudden drop in his pitch makes your skin crawl in both fear and excitement.

You’re breathing hard, fogs clouding your thoughts as James drives you closer to the brink. “I—Sirius—”

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Yes. Only you, Sirius.”

Satisfied, he kisses you again, whispering between the collision of your mouths, “Good. Now, cum, baby. Give him what he wants.”

Not two seconds later, you reach your high, your scream strangled in your throat as you give in to the blind pleasure. Your orgasm hits you so hard that you end up squirting. 

James’s eyes shut close in reflex when your cum stains his face, a little bit of your juice dripping to the floor before he catches the rest of your essence in his mouth, lapping you clean and swallowing everything you give him as promised.

Sirius sneers, the tip of his nose brushes against your ear. “Squirting on another man’s face,” he titters mockingly, “I can’t believe it.”

James returns to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His chin still glistens with your slick, your taste sitting thickly on his tongue. 

He offers you his usual angelic smile, the adoration he holds for you never falter even if you’re his best friend's girl. “Let’s move somewhere else,” he says, his thumb sliding across your lips as he holds back the temptation to kiss you. “The party will be over soon. I don’t want anyone to see us like this.”

Sirius untangles his arm from your leg, letting you stand on your own. Your knees still wobble from the aftershock of your orgasm, leaving you with no choice but to have your body pressed flat against his chest. 

Despite the terms he used to degrade you a moment ago, your boyfriend soothes you down with a little kiss on the side of your temple, his arm holding you still by your waist.

“You okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

Turning bashful, you respond with a timid smile and a weak, “Yeah, umm… I think I just pulled a muscle from the way you were holding me.”

Sirius laughs, landing a playful peck on your cheek. “Not as flexible as you were before, huh, grandma?”

“S-shut up.”

James watches with his jaw clenched, jealousy starting to gnaw at him just as much as the one that was blazing inside Sirius’s chest. “Come,” he says, pivoting on his heels and leading you down the hallway. “I know a place we can use.”

***

You’ve been in this room before.

It’s tucked away in one of Hogwarts’ forgotten towers—a space James had claimed long ago as his own. He called it his sanctuary. With its high, arched windows and shelves crammed with weathered spellbooks and Muggle novels alike, the room feels more like a secret study than a part of the castle. 

The stone walls are softened by old rugs and scattered cushions, a few armchairs charmed to stay warm no matter the season. 

At the center sits a white grand piano, slightly out of place in the magical chaos—its ivory surface gleaming in the candlelight, its lid closed, waiting.

You remember the last time you were here. It was his birthday. He’d snuck you away from the party in the common room, tugging you by the hand through secret passageways only he seemed to know. 

You’d sat beside him on the piano bench, close enough to feel the warmth of him, and listened as his fingers danced across the keys. That was the night James declared his love for you, but you could’nt seem to be able to return it.

Because even then, with all that tenderness spilling from him, you couldn’t give it back. Your heart already belonged to someone else. And he knew it.

But that was then.

Right now, you’re lying down on the same piano, your dress thrown away haphazardly on the floor, your chest exposed and your legs opened wide with no fabric covering your skin. 

It’s been an hour since you started this. You’re in a haze, your body enervated after your boyfriend gave you your second orgasm that day only by using his fingers.

The two handsome men now stand tall before you, their eyes still fixated on the way your bare chest is heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. 

Sirius had shed his formal robes long ago, trading them for something far more him—a loose black button-down, completely undone and hanging open over his bare chest, the fabric slipping off one shoulder like it had given up trying to contain him. 

His white undershirt is nowhere to be seen, tossed somewhere across the room, and his sleeves are rolled carelessly to his elbows. 

He smirks, eyes dark and wild as ever. “I hope you’re not tired yet, love. We’re just getting started.”

James, dressed in nothing left but a shirt and slacks, unfastens the three top buttons of his shirt with a little tremble in his fingertips. He’s visibly nervous at what your boyfriend has planned for the rest of the evening but he doesn’t file a word of protest. 

The curly-haired boy still feels jittery even after he was holding you close from behind as your boyfriend fingered you until you drenched his fist with your juices. Sirius tells him to take off his robe and he follows, sliding it away from his collar.

“Let’s play a little game,” Sirius announces with mischief in his tone, walking to the other side of the piano where you have your head resting a few inches away from the edge. 

His sensual, devilish smirk is the last thing you see before your boyfriend covers your eyes with his tie. He lifts your head, knotting the tie securely behind your skull.

“Sirius—”

He lowers his head to close the gap and kisses you upside down, silencing you at once. “Relax, love,” he coos, the shape of his smirk pressing against your lips. 

“I’m gonna take care of you real nice, okay?”

Now that you’ve lost your vision, you rely heavily on your ears to figure out what’s going on. You can hear James’s footsteps closing in at the same time you feel Sirius moving away from you. 

“Lift your hands, sweetheart,” his honeyed voice echoes near, a lot gentler than how your boyfriend spoke to you. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

Trying not to tense so much, you raise your hands in the air. James wraps his tie around your wrist, careful not to hurt you, unlike your boyfriend who always loves to tie it hard enough so it will leave angry marks on your skin for him to marvel in the morning. 

Once the fabric wraps around your wrists, binding you gently, James guides your arms down to rest across your stomach. His touch is patient, reverent—like he’s memorizing every inch of you with his hands alone.

He leans forward, fingers tilting your chin toward him, and kisses you upside down—mirroring the way Sirius had kissed you just moments earlier.

But James kisses differently. He kisses like you’re fragile, like pressing too hard might break you. There’s something achingly soft in the way his lips move against yours, careful and searching. You exhale quietly through your nose, letting yourself fall into the simplicity of it—just breath and warmth and the subtle hum of magic in the air.

Then you feel it—his tongue, timid and slow, tracing along the seam of your lips as if asking permission, tasting you like you’re something sacred. Your heart stutters in your chest, racing in time with his, even though the kiss is barely there.

Time feels suspended—like the world has curled in on itself, quiet and dreamlike—until—

“James.”

The boy stiffens, breaking off the kiss at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice rumbling through the air. 

He raises his face, a muscle in his jaw twitches as he sees Sirius’s eyes turn dark and piercing. Both males are jealous of one another. 

James wants you for himself, while Sirius, despite giving him his permission, grows even more resentful in sharing you with another man. The tension between the two is enough to smother you but fortunately, you’re too distraught by your own thoughts to notice.

What are they planning to do to me?

You take a deep breath, trying to unwind your muscles as best as you can as you wait. You can hear footsteps again, Sirius and James circling your body before they stop. 

There’s a silence where you can hear nothing but your thundering heartbeats in your ears. 

There’s a sound of belts being pulled away from their loops, zippers being tugged down. None of the men make a sound. When two pairs of lips begin their journeys from your ankles to your thighs, you realize one thing.

It’s a guessing game.

Sirius doesn’t have to tell you the rules for you to know how to play, or maybe this isn’t a game at all. 

Maybe he just wants to fuck with your mind, injecting more thrill into your veins at the thought of being embraced by two males without knowing who’s doing what to you. But if this is a game, then you know how to win. 

You’ve been dating your boyfriend for years. You know how rough he is–you love how rough he is–how sinful and obscene his touches are, how he clamps his mouth against your own or your clit—you’ve memorized everything. 

Plus, Sirius and James are two different species. While Sirius is the fire that burns you with his passion, James is the salve that soothes you down. The devil and the angel are not the same. It’s easy to differentiate the two, even if you can see or hear a thing.

The two males have their heads settled between your legs, fighting for space and a chance to please you. 

Each man is pinning one of your thighs on the piano, wanting to spread you apart as much as possible so they can taste how sweet you are. 

You can tell almost immediately that it’s your boyfriend who is now latching his mouth on your clit, sucking hard enough until your hips buck forward. 

The other man—James—takes his time kissing the sensitive skin on the inner part of your thigh, his hand stroking and kneading soothingly.

“Ah, Sirius—” You squirm, hands going down to his head, tugging on his bun.

Your boyfriend laughs, his voice dulled by your sensitive parts. “How can you tell it’s me?”

You always do that, doing as you please, overstimulating me. But you don’t voice your thoughts out loud. No, you can’t, as you feel James joining in, their tongues dart out eagerly to lap at your wetness at the same time. 

You’re being pulled to the edge of the piano to make it easier for them to share space. 

“Oh—” Your whole world shakes. The mental image of two pairs of eyes looking up at you with their desire blazing inside, hungry and lustful, occupies every part of your mind. 

It’s too much. The sensation is too much.

“Relax, sweetheart,” James says, circling his tongue around your nub as your boyfriend lowers himself enough to plunge his slick muscle into your hole.

“Please, I’m—” You whine, your nails digging into your palms, “I’m about to cum—“

“Again?” Sirius jeers as his sinful smirk resurfaces. “Well, then, allow me.” Pushing James to the side, he pushes two of his fingers inside his mouth, making them wet before he drives them inside you at the same time. “You know what to do, baby,” he coos.

He wants you to squirt just like before and with the way he works his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you in a come-hither motion, he’s leaving you with no other choice. 

As embarrassing as it is, you find your body doing exactly what he wants, cumming hard with a silent cry until the trickle of your juices drenches his hand all the way to his wrist. 

Sirius retracts his fingers, licking each digit clean while his eyes traverse down your body. “That’s fucking hot,” he says, while James dives down to lick your pussy’s lips clean from every bit of your cum.

“You taste amazing,” James breathes out in bliss, kissing your clit and slowly eating you out to soothe you down from your crashing orgasm.

You’re all spent, eyes turning vacant as they’re transfixed on the ceiling but they don’t stop. One of them walks away to the other side of the piano, stopping once they stand on the other side of your head. 

He hovers above your face, refraining himself from leaning in for another inverted kiss, afraid that the sweet taste of his mouth would reveal his identity too soon. 

Instead, he frames your face, angling your head to the side so he can latch his mouth against the side of your neck. He uses his teeth almost instantly, suckling hard on your skin, marking angry bruises for everyone to see.

“Siri—”

He clasps his palm against your mouth before you can finish pronouncing his name, knowing that the game would be over once you guess it correctly. 

He then slides two of his fingers inside, forcing you to part your lips wide so he can see the shape of your tongue as he presses his digits flat against your slick muscle. 

Sirius thrusts his fingers inside and you know what he wants you to do. You suck on them, in the most obscene way possible as if you were treating them as something else. 

Your boyfriend always loves to do this. Loves enjoying the look on your face when you hollow your cheeks around his fingers, giving him a vivid image of how pretty your lips are going to look when you wrap them around his cock later on.

You flinch when you feel the other man leaning half of his body forward over the piano, peppering soothing kisses on the inner part of your thighs just in the way James did a few moments ago. 

His soft lips, the way he’s still a bit awkward and shy as he tries to please you, send goosebumps breaking all over your skin.

 James can’t seem to get enough of your taste. Knowing that this could be his only chance at having you in such a position, he places his mouth on your center again, kissing you down there so languidly as if he had eternity to please you. 

He hugs you close by your thighs, his nose pressing against your pelvis. You can’t hear his soft groan but you can feel its vibration directly on your clit.

You moan between sharp gasps when the man—Sirius—who’s standing over your head starts to clamp his hot mouth around your breast, rolling your nipple between his teeth before he sucks hard. 

He grabs a hold of your mound, squeezing it hard enough to make you squirm then he flicks his tongue around the bud. The material of his shirt grazes your face when he pulls back, pushing down his pants to break himself free. 

You’re being tugged forward, your head falling over the edge of the piano with the head of his cock pressing against your lips. 

Your boyfriend doesn’t do anything. He wants you to do all the work. With your hands tied, you reach up and circle your fingers around his cock, kissing the head and tasting the salt of his pre-cum. 

He’s hard, throbbing and twitching in your hands at the slightest touch. Exhaling sharply, you take his tip into your mouth, and Sirius, without warning, shoves everything inside at once. 

You choke, groaning around his dick as he lands both palms on the piano to balance himself, trapping your body between them as he rocks his hips forward. 

Your throat constricts around his length and he can see how far he goes from where he is looming tall above you.

James’s patience is starting to run thin as well. He starts using both hands, stuffing three of his fingers inside you while his other one abuses your clit with his thumb. 

He pumps you hard and fast, perfectly imitating the way Sirius did to you a few minutes ago. 

You mewl, moaning around Sirius’s cock, your legs sliding down until they fall onto the keys. 

The sound of broken notes fills the air, startling you enough that you pull your mouth away from his cock, coughing and gasping frantically as you try to refill the air in your lungs.

James suddenly grabs you by the back of your knees, yanking you down until you’re close enough for him to seize you by the waist. 

He hoists you away from the piano, forcing you to return to your feet and turning your body around. Your vision is pitch black, your hands still bound together, reaching out blindly for support until you find yourself balancing your weight on the keys. 

James lowers his trousers to his mid-thighs, his cock springing free out of his briefs. Spitting onto his palm, he lathers himself quickly with his saliva before he nudges his tip against your entrance.

Despite his nervous, awkward demeanor, James is not taking it slow, propelling inside you with one hard thrust until your entire body is pushed forward, a strangled cry stuck in your throat. 

He’s being uncharacteristically aggressive, stretching you out almost in the same way as your boyfriend does. 

He bends himself down, wrapping his hand around the front of your throat and pulling you up until your back is plastered against his chest.

The butterflies inside you flutter their wings, a sob of pleasure threatening to break free. “James—”

“Wrong.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach, the fingers he has around your neck threaten to crush your windpipes. 

“You’re breaking my heart, love,” Sirius chuckles right next to your ear. “How could you forget your boyfriend filling you up like this? I thought I’d fucked you hard enough for you to remember the shape of my cock.”

It’s Sirius? Your heart palpitates fast, panic rising to the surface. The one who was inside my mouth before was James?!

“You seem surprised,” your boyfriend laughs mockingly, ramming his hips against yours over and over again with his nails digging painfully into the flesh of your waist. 

“You thought I was him, didn’t you? I treated you gently and you started thinking about another man. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“Ah—Siri—” You’re breathing fast, your cheek pressed against the closed lid as Sirius pinned you down to the piano by your nape. 

Your stomach is bumping against the keys with each thrust, both of you making music of your own, accompanied by the sound of his pelvis slapping against your behind.

James watches you from the other side of the piano with his cock pulsating hard in his hand, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries not to make noise. 

It feels terrible, humiliating even, to pleasure himself as he watches you being taken hard by your boyfriend but he can’t restrain himself. 

At the sound of your name escaping his lips in a breathy, longing moan, Sirius’s eyes dart to his face, the corner of his mouth twitching into an impish smirk at the sight of another man masturbating to his girlfriend being fucked. “There’s room for one more if you want to join, Potter,” he arrogantly says, “That is if you can’t stop yourself from cumming within seconds.”

The thought of you being watched by your best friend caused warmth to pool in your belly. 

Taking off your blindfold with one hand, Sirius grabs a fistful of your hair, hauling you up until he can hug you close as he stands. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his long fingers framing your face. 

He forces you to look at the man who’s fisting his dick in one hand, while his other one grips tightly against the edge of the piano. 

He’s giving himself a string of pumps that matches the way Sirius is driving himself inside you.

“Y/N…” He sighs in yearning when your eyes meet, absolutely wrecked from how much effect you have on him, turning a shade redder than he already does. “You’re beautiful…”

“Yeah,” Sirius sneers, whispering in your ear, “My beautiful, beautiful slut.”

He penetrates you with aching shallowness between your legs, teasing you, moving with a rhythm like an inevitable sea tide. 

You squeeze around him, keening as your body starts to crave more. “Fuck, taking my fucking dick so good,” your boyfriend hisses, drowning in rapture.

“Sirius, please…” You glue your thighs together, clenching your walls around him.

“What, honey, do you want more?” Sirius questions melodiously, even when he knows you want him to lose control. “Want me to give it to you harder? Or do you want James too? Maybe find out if he can fuck you as good as I can.”

He must have been fucking you so good that your brain turns all mushy because right now, you want to turn his teasing words into reality. 

You’re not sure how you’re able to find the bravery within you to answer but your lips form the words before your mind can finish your thought. “Yes,” you whimper, and James almost moans at the sound. “Yes, please, I want him too—”

Sirius stops. For a moment, the smirk falters from his face, before— “Is that so?”

Siriu’s thrust turns forceful within an instant, pouring all his rage and jealousy in every plunge of his cock inside you. Your jaw turns slack, mouth wide open in a silent scream with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

He’s fucking you to prove a point, one hand rubbing furiously against your clit, slapping and abusing it until you cry out.

Sirius keeps his gaze on James, his eyes glowing menacingly as he growls out the words, “You think he can fuck you like I do?” He pulls himself out without giving you a chance to answer. 

Before you can groan at the loss of the delicious frictions he gave you, your boyfriend whirls you around until you’re face-to-face.

“He can’t,” Sirius says, squeezing your face with one hand. 

“No one can fuck you like I do. This fucking cunt won’t be satisfied until I fill you up.” He emphasizes by slapping a hand over your heat, making you jump and whine at the pain before your whole body shakes at the way he’s pumping his fingers into you again. “I’m the only one who can please you this way, Y/N. You got that?”

“Yes,” you reply in a faint cry, getting lightheaded as if he’s blocking oxygen to your head.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sirius.”

“Good.” He retracts his fingers, shoving them inside your mouth so you can taste yourself as he nudges his head, telling James to come close. “Let’s move to the couch. I want to fuck her mouth.”

Sirius sweeps off your feet, carrying you in his arms before he forces you to go on all fours on the couch. 

He tells James, whose shirt is sliding off his shoulders and his pants hanging low on his hips, to get into position as your boyfriend moves to stand on his knees before you.

 “Show me how much you love me,” your boyfriend purrs as he unfastens the tie around your wrists.

Obediently, you curl your fingers around his shaft and start your ministrations by giving him lazy strokes. Sirius threads his fingers through your hair, pushing back your hair as he thrusts himself into your mouth. 

“Pretty girl,” he praises, watching you flick your tongue over his tip. “I love you so much. Can’t go on a day without you. Need you so fucking bad.” He hypnotizes you with his words, your insides melting as they resonate through your brain.

James, settling himself on your other end, bends down to spit onto your cunt, spreading his saliva all over your lips with two of his fingers before he does the same to his cock. 

He prods his tip along your folds, breathing hard in anticipation with his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

You both groan at the sensation of his head passing your entrances just slightly the second you push your hips back. Fuck me, James can hear the unspoken words and he’s ready to oblige.

“Y/N” He paints soothing kisses along your spine, one hand splayed against your stomach. “I’m putting it in.”

Unlike Sirius, James moves slow, taking his time and waiting for you to adjust until he’s fully sheathed inside. 

Though he’s an inch shorter than Sirius’s, he’s wider in girth, rubbing against your walls and stretching you out in a way that has you whimpering around your boyfriend’s cock.

You can hear James taking a sharp breath, and a low, “Fuck…” It’s the first he ever let expletives depart from his pretty mouth, his silvery voice turning guttural.

“Tight, isn’t she?” Sirius asks him, pride sitting thick on his voice.

“Y-yeah…” James rocks his hips once, feeling your walls tighten even more at the friction. “And so… hot inside too…”

You slide Sirius’s cock out of your mouth, taking a breath and a moment to relish in the sensation of having another man fucking you in front of your boyfriend but Sirius’s not having it. 

He slaps his dick against the side of your face. “Who told you to stop?” He says.

“Pretty little whore wants to be filled in two holes at once, doesn’t she? Come on, baby.” You take him back—no, he shoves himself inside your mouth, making you gag around his length. 

He buries himself to the hilt right at the same time James does the same. Tears start to prickle at the corner of your eyes.

“Ah,” James breathes out as he picks up his pace, giving you shallow, pointed thrusts that hit your spot just right. “Wish I could see your face… Wish I could see how pretty you look as you take me in…” He closes the spaces between his chest and your back, kissing you softly on the nape. “You feel like heaven to me.”

An idea submerges in Sirius’s mind. Telling James to pull out, Sirius flips you over to your back, his cock hovering above your face as you take him in one hand. 

“There you go, Potter,” your boyfriend says.

“Now you can fuck my girl as you watch me fuck her mouth.”

James, now seeing you spread your legs for him, your pussy dripping and waiting for him to fill it up again, is on the verge of turning absolutely feral. 

The juvenile, innocent side of him has disappeared — replaced by a man with his blood boiling with desire. 

He pushes your legs forward, his hands gripping tight at the back of your thighs as he pushes back in — his cock standing hard enough that he can slide in without using his hands. 

He folds your body in half, knocking you forward and robbing a moan from the back of your throat.

 Gasping in surprise, you throw your face to the side, your filthy moans are spoken against the side of Sirius’s cock. You try your best to bring him back into your mouth, not wanting to upset him as you can see his rage flaring in his eyes.

“So good,” James grunts, his hips swaying obscenely. His shirt slides off his shoulders, stopping to pool around his elbows. “You’re perfect, so perfect, I love you—ah—”

At his confession, your walls flutter around him and you release Sirius from your mouth, shifting your gaze down to see James watching you with sentiment in his eyes, your stomach flipping in delight at the sight. 

It’s true that he can’t fuck you as good as your boyfriend can, but at the moment James exudes more feelings, pulling more emotions out of you. It pleases you just the same in such a different way.

Sirius, unsettled by the chemistry between you, clamps one hand around James’s throat and yanks him forward until their lips collide above you. 

Sirius kisses him forcefully, tongue thrusting inside, sloppily moving together inside James’s mouth until he has his drool dripping down his chin. 

James thrusts begin to stutter as Sirius breaks his concentration, mewling helplessly against his mouth. James had never been kissed this hard, never felt like his oxygen was stolen right from his lungs. 

When Sirius breaks away, a string of saliva connecting their lips, he tightens his fingers around James’s throat, making him wince from the pain.

“You get to fuck my girl,” Sirius growls. “But you don’t get to have her heart. It belongs to me. She belongs to me. Know your fucking place, Potter.”

“Sirius—” he chokes, one hand curling around Sirius’s wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip.

The brunette kisses him again, hard enough to turn James’s lips all swollen before he tells him, “Lie down.”

James, receiving a hard shove on his chest, falls on the couch, his limbs all tangled with yours as he’s pressed flat on his back. 

Sirius lifts your body, grabbing you harshly by your hair as he forces you to lie down on top of James, your face hovering above his. 

James gulps at the sudden proximity between you, shaky eyes peering into yours. 

You look breathtaking with your lips all bruised and your lipstick smeared to your cheeks, your chin wet with saliva, and Sirius’s pre-cum. 

You’re so beautiful and dirty at the same time, reek of purity and sensuality.

“Sit on his cock, baby,” Sirius says, and with wobbly legs, you position yourself on James’s length, sinking agonizingly slowly onto his dick until he’s buried deep, your clit grazing the trimmed hairs on his pelvis.

“Ah—mmm,” James turns into a moaning mess, his cock pulsating hard inside you. Your body is weak but you still find the strength to smile when he gently strokes your face. 

“Feels good?” He questions which you reciprocate with a feeble nod, your eyes shifting to his lips and James gets the message. 

You meet each other halfway, lips molding, slow dancing with one another. For a moment, serenity hugs you both, moaning softly against each other’s mouth with him whispering praises between kisses, “Sweet… You taste so sweet… I can kiss you for eternity and it won’t be enough…”

You’re about to move your hips when Sirius stands on his knees behind you, each hand on your ass cheeks, spreading them apart. 

Your body jolts, almost accidentally biting on James’s tongue when you feel Sirius spitting harshly onto your hole. 

Shock runs like electricity through your veins. “Wait—Sirius—”

“Relax, baby,” he says, closing his eyes as pushes his face forward, his tongue circling the rim of your hole, giving you the sensation you’ve never felt before in your life.

“Oh—God—” You cry out, both thrilled and a bit terrified from how strange it feels.

James, aroused by your expression, slightly bucks his hips upward, thrusting into you. “sweetheart…” he whispers, “Pay attention to me too…”

At the feeling of Sirius’s tongue probing against your hole, James’s hot, throbbing length rubbing against your walls, you can barely think about anything but you try your best to comply. 

You lean down to kiss him again, your eyebrows furrowed as you feel James driving himself a little further inside you. You both muffle each other’s moans, soft lips hugging another pair in a way that can only be described as romantic.

Sirius glides one finger inside you, doing as gently as he can to not hurt you. Your body turns rigid in discomfort and your boyfriend calms you down by placing open-mouthed kisses on the skin that covers your tailbone. 

“Love, relax,” he says, losing the venom that once coated his tongue. “I won’t hurt you. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“We’ll make you feel good,” James corrects, casting a smile too innocent to be thrown in this situation as he pushes a lock of your hair behind your ear. “We love you. All we’re trying to do is to please you.”

“That’s right,” Sirius chuckles, dipping his tongue inside your heat this time before he licks a stripe up and returns to your rear. “So be a good girl and relax for me, okay?”

You draw a deep breath. “Okay…”

James props one elbow on the couch, raising his body slightly so he can whisper in your ear, “Just focus on me. Focus on the way I’m sliding inside you. Can you feel it? Can you feel where we’re connected?”

You shakily nod, feeling his smile pressing against the contour of your jawline.

Now that you’re loose enough to take one finger inside, Sirius spits onto his hand again before he brings another one of his digits, scissoring you wide open. Every time you flinch, your boyfriend would reward you with another tender kiss on your skin. “I won’t rush,” Sirius assures you. “I’ll wait as long as you need until you’re ready.”

The sudden change of his attitude works perfectly on calming your nerves, and once your body relaxes, Sirius pushes his third fingers inside. “I think you can take me now, baby,” he says, rising tall on his knees. “I’ll take it slow, okay?”

James holds you close, shrouding you with his arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here.” He kisses your ear, murmuring, “Just focus on me…”

Sirius pushes his length into your rear as slowly as he can, muttering a gravelly, “Fuck, you’re even tighter this way,” under his breath.

“Ah,” you whimper, fingers clenching into fists. “Sirius, I can’t… It’s too much…”

“You can, baby,” Sirius replies in a guttural moan, leaning forward to mouth his words against your nape. “Just a little bit more–ah, Christ–”

“Siri–”

“I know,” he swallows his breath. “I swear I’ll make you feel so good after this, baby.”

The friction burns to the point that you almost feel like giving up but Sirius is trying his best to be gentle. James kisses you to swallow your groan, distracting you from the pain. 

It takes another few seconds before Sirius is fully enveloped by your warmth, just like James is and he chuckles, rewarding you by showering kisses down your back. “You’re doing so well, pretty girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Having two men inside you at the same time is something you wouldn’t even have the bravery to imagine and yet here you are.

“I’ll start to move, okay?” Sirius says after giving you a moment to catch your breath, and you spin your head to the side to slant your lips together with him.

“Okay…” you breathe out. Your boyfriend rewards you with a smile and one last kiss on your bare shoulder before he straightens his back, places his hands on each side of your hips, and begins to move.

“Ah—fuck—” You can feel tears stinging your eyes, from pain or pleasure, you’re not sure, probably both. 

With every drive of Sirius’s hips, you’re sinking lower onto James’s cock, the three of you grinding against one another — it’s awkward for the first few seconds, each of you trying to match your rhythm but once you find it, waves of pleasure start to come crashing in.

“How do you feel?” Sirius asks, uncharacteristically solemn as he’s worried of your well-being. “Does it hurt?”

“N-no.”

“Does it feel good?” James chimes in, peering into your eyes.

“Yes,” you exhale in bliss. “I feel so… full.”

Sirius smiles, exhaling in relief. “Well then, how about we take it up a notch?” He adds more force into his thrust, sending you toppling down with your head landing on James’s chest. 

James can feel it too, the snap of his hips and the way your walls are hugging him tightly. Sirius is in control, leaving both of you under his mercy.

“How is it, baby?” Your boyfriend speaks between his labored breathing. “Feels good?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, clawing against James’s chest as you feel like you’re trapped between heaven and earth. James’s thick hardness opens you up while Sirius’s penetrates deep inside your body.

“Wanna fuck you harder,” your boyfriend says once he feels your muscles unwinding, your tight hole finally adjusting to his size. “Wanna fuck you so hard until I cum, baby, can I?”

“Me too.” James takes one of your breasts in his hand, tongue circling your nipple. “I want it, sweetheart.” He mouths against your skin. “Want to feel you clench harder around me.”

You bite the corner of your lip, nodding your head as your heart rate escalates fast. “Ah—mmm, yeah.”

With your permission, both men hastily pick up the pace, robbing a scream from the back of your throat when James lifts his hips at the same time Sirius pushes forward. 

You feel like floating — it’s insane how your body can still handle this instead of breaking apart. Sirius penetrates deep but James grazes the spot that makes your vision turn white. 

Gasping in surprise, you blurt out his name. “Ah, James—”

Sirius’s hand slithers from behind, clasping firmly against your mouth. “I’ve told you,” he snarls, “You either scream my name or nothing at all. Don’t piss me off.”

Sirius never hurts you, he would rather die than lay a finger on you but at that time, anger radiates off of him in a way that sends fear crawling on your skin. You nod your head, eyes wide open in shock, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Now what do you say?”

“I want you, Sirius.”

“Want me to do what?”

“Want you to fuck–ah–want you to fuck me–”

“Scream for me, baby.” Sirius turns to hard, pitiless thrusts, grabbing one of your hands and pinning it against your back. 

He snaps his hips, once, twice, emphasizing his next words. “Scream. my. fucking. name.”

He’s forcing it out of you, making you cry out his name in such a pathetic way, you turn the other man jealous. 

James, now wanting nothing more but to get your attention and reach his high, starts to abandon his effort in being docile. “I want you to look at me,” he begs, rutting his hips harder against yours. “I want you to look at me as I cum—”

“Cum inside her and I’ll kill you,” Sirius growls, his nails digging painfully into your hips.

“But—ah!” James throws his head back, feeling like he’s already on his limit. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

Sirius breaks away, wrapping an arm around your stomach and yanking you close to his chest until James has no choice but to slide out of you. “On your knees,” Sirius orders him. “You can cum in her mouth.”

It wouldn’t feel as delightful nor as satisfying compared to shooting his seeds inside your walls, but James — knowing his position — takes what he can get. 

You return to your hands and knees as James stands before you, the tip of his cock, coated with your slick, hanging a few centimeters away from you.

Sirius pushes himself inside your pussy this time, sending your body forward right at the same time you’re taking James into your mouth. 

He fucks you fast, knowing that he doesn’t have to be gentle this way. James winces at the vibration your mouth gives him, his hips slowly moving on their own. 

He lands one hand on your hair, stroking your strands first and tugging at the roots when you moan harder around him at the feeling of Sirius pulling out only to slide his dick inside your ass. 

“Goddamn, I love this,” Sirius rasps, giving one thrust inside your hole, and another one in your cunt next. “Both your ass and your pussy feel so good. So fucking tight. All for me.”

Your face is burning, your heart soaring high, and you’ve been standing on the edge for so long, your body can’t keep up with this any longer. Stroking James’s cock in one hand, you plead, “Fuck, Sirius, don’t play around—I—I need to cum.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, still constantly changing from one hole to another. “You want it, baby? Tell James who’s making you feel good right now.”

You chew on your lip, your hazy eyes drifting up to meet his azure ones. James’s face is set in resigned sad lines, his heart breaks in his eyes when you say, “Y-you, Sirius!”

Sensing the hesitation in your voice, Sirius fills the dip of your spine with his chest, his hand sneaking to your throat before his fingers frame your jaw, forcing you to whirl your head around to face him as he hovers right above your shoulder. 

“I can’t hear you,” he says, “Who fucks you the best?”

You put more pressure on your words. “You, Sirius.”

Sirius fixates his gaze on James’s face, smirking both contemptuously and arrogantly. “Louder, Sweetheart.”

“You, Sirius!”

Keeping his eyes on the other male’s face, he croons, “Well, I guess I have to live up to my name then.”

Sirius moves back and forth, burying himself so deep in your cunt that you can feel his tip kissing your cervix. 

He’s urging you on to your ecstasy, giving you a glimpse of what heaven feels like, by brushing his fingers over your sensitive clit and then presses, over and over again, teasing and taking as he claims your everything.

James flinches when your grip around him gets a little too tight, your orgasm approaching fast that you forget to pay attention to the man kneeling before you. 

“Fuck my mouth,” you tell him, as you have no strength to spoil him any longer. With your hands balancing yourself on the couch, you relax your jaw and let him push in as much as he wants into your mouth.

A sudden snap of Sirius’s hips makes you moan louder and James gasps, the muscles in his abs tautening as he’s drawing closer to his climax. “Ah, —I’m gonna cum—“

“What about you, love?” Sirius’s breathing turns labored. “Gonna cum too? Gonna cum hard on my cock while he cums in your mouth?” He lands his palm on your head, shoving you harder onto James’s cock. 

“Do it then, you filthy whore.”

James moans loudly, his blush spreading to his ears. “G-God,” he nearly whimpers as he hits the back of your throat. “sweetheart–”

Within seconds, the waves of pleasure inside you crest higher and at last, your orgasm crashes over you, stealing your breath and sending the roar and rush of blood ringing in your ears. 

You have no choice but to pull away from James and thankfully, he lets you even when he was so close to achieving his ecstasy.

“Ah, I can feel it,” Sirius chuckles, his hips moving erratically as he’s nearing his brink. “Squeezing around me like that. Been my girl for so long and you still have the best fucking cunt in the world, baby.” He keeps moving his hips, overstimulating you until you let out a spurt, drenching the leather material of the couch with your juices.

“Wait, Sirius—” You sob out, your thighs trembling. “I’m still—”

“I know, baby, just give me a few seconds more,” Sirius says, panting hard, losing his rhythm. This aural evidence of his impending orgasm triggers another for you—smaller, but no less intense. 

“Gonna fucking cum—I’m gonna—ah, fuck—” You can feel it exactly the moment he hits his orgasm, giving a forceful thrust one last time before he slows down, a drawled-out moan fleeting from his lips. 

He still rocks his hips, fucking his seeds back into your hole, his head thrown back as he relishes in the sensation.

Dazed and wrecked, you watch James going down to his knees before you, one hand stroking his shaft while his other one finds your face, pulling you into a kiss. 

He lays his temple against yours as he closes his eyes, nibbling on his lower lip as he pumps himself faster. 

Seeing how rough Sirius fucked you earlier sends his blood pumping and James needs his release. “Touch me, please…”

Sirius, hearing his words, untangles his fingers from your hair. He pushes you down by the nape until your closed lips are pressed against the head of James’s cock, his pre-cum staining your mouth. 

“Take care of him, baby,” your boyfriend says and in your haze, you separate your mouth, taking him in as much as you can. James groans, your mouth feels scorching hot and wet compared to his cold hands.

“Mmh—” you moan around him, giving James the final touch that he needs to send himself to cloud nine. James ejaculates inside your mouth with his lips —  his hand lands on your shoulder, conflicted between pushing you away so he won’t stain you with his essence more than he already does, or keeping you still so you can swallow everything down your throat. 

None of you are given any chance, however, as your boyfriend says, “Keep it in your mouth.”

Sirius pulls you up, your back flush against his chest as his face hovers above you, staring at you upside down. 

“Open up,” he commands and you do, parting your lips to let him take a glimpse of James’s thick, white semen pooling inside your mouth. 

Sirius smirks. “He came a lot, didn’t he?” Before you’re given a chance to respond, your boyfriend spits into your mouth, his hand pressing against the underside of your jaw. “Now, swallow.”

James watches the scene with his jaw hanging slack, unable to believe that this is the reality he’s seeing. He watches you share another inverted kiss with your boyfriend, with Sirius moaning against your mouth as he tastes the rest of James’s cum on your tongue.

James finally snaps out of the haze—though just barely—after watching you kiss Sirius like your life depends on it. His eyes are still glazed over with lust, lips parted, chest rising and falling a little too fast. He looks like he’s forgotten where he is—forgotten everything except you.

Then Sirius leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice is dark silk. “What do you say, baby? To Potter?”

You turn your head slowly, gaze locking onto James’s. There’s no teasing in his expression now—just raw want, wide and open. He’s still watching you like he can’t believe you’re real.

Your voice is soft, shaky. “Thank you, James.”

A slow, crooked smile pulls at his mouth. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Satisfied, Sirius peels himself away from you and strides toward James, the tension between them simmering just beneath the surface. The space narrows until it vanishes altogether—Sirius grabs James by the throat, rough but controlled, and drags him forward.

It’s James who breaks first—slamming his lips into Sirius’s like he’s been waiting years for this. The kiss is wild and urgent, all teeth and tongues and barely restrained need.

You feel the heat rise again in your chest, between your legs, just watching them.

When they finally part, their lips are swollen, breaths ragged. James leans in close, voice low and reverent, and whispers against Sirius’s mouth:

“Thank you for sharing your girl, Black.”

-

-

Mattheo Riddle

The sound of your voice, sharp and slicing through the humid air of the dungeons, carried down the corridor before Mattheo even rounded the corner. He knew your tone, low, controlled, dripping with venom you reserved only for people stupid enough to challenge you.

“…say that again,” you hissed, chin tilted high as you stared down a tall Ravenclaw boy who had clearly pushed too far. “I dare you.”

The boy sneered, blue eyes sparking. “You think being a Slytherin princess makes you untouchable? You’re nothing but Riddle’s little trophy. Without him-”

You laughed, cruel and cutting, a sound that made the Ravenclaw falter. “Without him, I’d still be smarter than you, faster than you, and about three leagues out of your reach. Don’t project your pathetic inferiority complex on me, just because you’ll never have half of what I do.”

Mattheo leaned lazily against the stone wall at the corner, arms crossed, watching you dismantle the boy piece by piece. He’d learned early that you didn’t need him to fight your battles. You were lethal with words. Razor-sharp, unapologetic and he loved that about you.

He would have let it play out, amused, until the Ravenclaw’s temper snapped.

“You bitch-”

The shove came hard and sudden. Your back slammed against the damp stone wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. The impact echoed in the narrow corridor, cruel and ugly.

Mattheo was moving before you could recover. The casual air evaporated in an instant, replaced by something dark, dangerous, and entirely his.

“You just made the last mistake of your life,” he said, voice low and cold as steel.

The Ravenclaw spun, startled, just in time to take Mattheo’s fist across his jaw. The crack of bone and the boy’s grunt filled the air. He staggered, clutching his face, and Mattheo didn’t pause. He grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back into the wall where you’d been a moment before.

“Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your body. Slowly.” His words were hissed through clenched teeth, eyes burning with a fury that could have belonged only to the son of Voldemort. “You think anyone here will stop me? Go on, try me.”

The boy’s face had gone pale beneath the blossoming bruise on his cheek. He stammered something incoherent, but Mattheo silenced it with another hard punch to the gut. The Ravenclaw folded, wheezing, and slid down the wall, coughing into his hands.

Mattheo let him crumple, sneering. “Pathetic.”

He turned back to you, jaw still tight with fury. His hand hovered near yours, not quite touching, as if waiting to see if you were steady on your feet. “Are you hurt?” His voice softened, barely, but the edge of violence lingered in it.

You straightened, brushing dust from your robes with infuriating poise, though your back still stung from the impact. “He’ll regret that push more than I will.” Your eyes glittered as you looked at the Ravenclaw curled on the floor. “Didn’t think his brain could sink lower, but I stand corrected.”

Mattheo’s lips twitched, a flicker of dark amusement breaking through his scowl. He loved the way you never lost that ruthless edge, even when someone tried to knock it out of you.

“You had him handled,” he admitted, voice lowering as he stepped closer, “but no one lays a hand on you.” His eyes caught yours, stormy, intense, filled with the kind of possessiveness that wasn’t suffocating but protective, primal.

You tilted your chin, smirking faintly. “I noticed. Efficient work, Riddle.”

That earned a laugh from him, low and husky. He leaned in, one hand sliding to your waist with deliberate slowness, grounding you back from the tension of the moment. “Don’t thank me with words.”

You caught his meaning instantly. Stepping into him, you cupped his jaw and pulled him down into a kiss. It was fierce, breathless, charged with the leftover adrenaline sparking in both of you. Mattheo kissed you back with the same ferocity he fought with, hand tightening at your waist as if to anchor you to him.

When you broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his grin sharp and wicked. “That’s better,” he murmured. “Though next time, try not to make me jealous of how well you destroy people without me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile pulling at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm,” he hummed, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth again, “and yours.”

Behind you, the Ravenclaw groaned, trying to drag himself upright. Mattheo’s gaze flicked past you, narrowing again. With a flick of his wand, he muttered a hex under his breath and the boy yelped as boils erupted across his face and arms. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, before bolting down the corridor, cursing and wheezing.

Mattheo watched him run, eyes glinting. “That’ll remind him who he touched.”

You arched a brow at him, smirk tugging at your lips. “Overkill?”

He shook his head, eyes locking back on you with utter seriousness. “Not even close.”

The two of you walked back toward the common room together, his arm casually draped over your shoulders as though nothing had happened. But you could feel the tension still humming beneath his skin, that dangerous current that never fully left him. You laced your fingers through his to steady it, not to calm him, but to remind him you were right there, unshaken.

And Mattheo, for all his rough edges and violent temper, squeezed back like he’d never let go.

Theo Nott

The dungeons always seemed colder at night, the flickering green torches throwing long shadows across the walls. You were headed back from the library, a stack of books clutched under your arm, when you heard footsteps behind you.

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The arrogant stride was unmistakable.

“Bit late for study hour, isn’t it?” came the voice of a Hufflepuff boy. One who’d had it out for you since second year. He’d never gotten over the time you humiliated him in Potions, correcting his brewing in front of Snape. He’d been throwing jabs ever since.

You stopped, setting the books down on a stone bench. “Following me now? Should I be flattered or concerned?”

He sneered, stepping closer. “Just saying, it’s pathetic. All that studying, and you still have to ride the coattails of your friends. Everyone knows Riddle and Nott do the real work. You? You’re just there to make them look better.”

You laughed, sharp and humourless. “You’ve been obsessed with me for years, and that’s the best you’ve got? Come on, even Filch could come up with something nastier.”

His face flushed. “Don’t act so high and mighty. Everyone knows you’re just-”

You cut him off, voice dropping to a blade’s edge. “Say whatever you’re about to say, and I’ll slice you open with words so clean you won’t stop bleeding for a week.”

He faltered, but only for a moment. “You think you scare me? You’re nothing without them.”

It was a tired line. Predictable. Still, he stepped into your space, closer than you allowed anyone.

And that was when Theo appeared.

You hadn’t noticed him at first, leaning in the shadows just around the corner, his posture deceptively relaxed, like he’d been there for ages. His sharp blue eyes caught yours for a fleeting second, unreadable but he didn’t move, didn’t intervene. Not yet.

You held your ground. “I don’t need anyone to deal with you. You’re not important enough.”

The boy’s jaw tightened. He shoved you. Hard. The books you’d set down tumbled to the ground, scattering across the stones. Your back slammed against the wall, the impact rattling your spine.

Before you could react, Theo stepped forward. Slowly, purposefully. His wand was already in his hand, though he hadn’t raised it.

The Hufflepuff stiffened, recognizing him instantly. Everyone did. There was something about Theo, his silence was more unnerving than shouting, his calm more threatening than rage.

“Nott,” the boy muttered, trying for bravado.

Theo’s voice was low, even. “You’ve made a mistake.”

The boy scoffed, but you saw the twitch in his jaw, the way his hand shifted nervously at his side. “She started it.”

Theo’s head tilted, almost like he was studying a specimen. “And you thought putting your hands on her was the solution?” His gaze flicked to you briefly, then back to the boy. “Interesting.”

You pushed off the wall, anger still simmering. “I have it handled.”

“I know,” Theo murmured. His eyes never left the Hufflepuff. “But he touched you.”

That simple sentence carried more weight than a shout ever could. The boy shifted uncomfortably.

“You don’t get it-” the boy began.

Theo moved faster than either of you expected. His wand flicked, and suddenly the boy was slammed against the opposite wall, robes twisted tight as if invisible hands were choking him. He gasped, clawing at his throat.

Theo stepped closer, his expression still calm, voice almost conversational. “I don’t like repeating myself, so listen carefully. If you ever lay a finger on her again, I won’t stop at a simple hex. Do you understand?”

The boy’s eyes bulged. He nodded frantically.

Theo released the spell, letting him crumple to the floor. He didn’t offer him the dignity of another look, just stood over him, cold and unyielding. “Pick up what’s left of your pride and get out of my sight.”

The boy scrambled to his feet, glaring at both of you, but he didn’t argue. He bolted down the corridor, his footsteps echoing away.

Silence fell. The books still lay scattered on the ground.

Theo finally turned to you, his wand sliding back into his robes. His expression softened, fractionally. “Are you alright?”

You bent to pick up the books, shaking your head. “I told you, I could’ve handled it.”

Theo crouched beside you, helping gather them. “I know you could.” His hand brushed yours briefly as he handed you a volume, and for a moment, his eyes caught yours again, quieter this time, unguarded. “But I don’t like watching people test that theory.”

You exhaled, holding his gaze. “You can’t fight all my battles.”

“No,” he said simply. “Just the ones that matter.”

The books were back in your arms now, but neither of you moved. The dungeon torches hissed, casting green light across his sharp features. He leaned a little closer.

You closed the distance, leaning in until your hand brushed against his wrist where it hung at his side.

Theo’s breath caught, his restraint unraveling when you tugged him closer and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t rushed but deliberate, steady, filled with the silent thank-you you didn’t need to put into words. His free hand slid to the small of your back, careful of where you’d hit the wall, holding you like he’d never let you fall again.

When you broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, and his quiet laugh warmed the cool air of the dungeon, “You shouldn’t waste your words on people like him. Save them for when it important.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “You mean like you do?”

Theo’s mouth curved in the barest smirk. “Exactly.”

There was something unspoken there, something heavier than the moment. He didn’t push it, didn’t need to. That was the thing about Theo, he didn’t have to shout or throw punches. His silence, his precision, his quiet possessiveness spoke volumes.

And you realized, with a strange twist in your chest, that maybe you didn’t mind being defended after all. Not when it was him.

Enzo Berkshire

The courtyard was alive with voices, laughter bouncing off the stone walls as groups of students lingered after lunch. The autumn wind stirred the leaves, crisp and golden, scattering them across the flagstones. You were standing at the edge of the fountain, eyes narrowed at the Hufflepuff boy in front of you, his smug expression only fanning the fire in your veins.

“You’ve borrowed my notes three times this month,” you said, your tone calm but laced with venom. “And somehow, you’ve managed to twist that into bragging to half the school that you helped me. You can barely spell ‘lumos,’ let alone tutor me.”

The boy chuckled, smug and loud enough for those nearby to overhear. “I was only telling people the truth. That you’ve been struggling. I mean, not everyone can keep up. I thought I’d be generous.”

Your jaw tightened, lips curving into a sharp smile. “Generous? You couldn’t be generous if you were handing out air. The only thing you’ve got to your name is delusion, and even that’s second-hand. Tell me, do you believe your own lies, or do you just enjoy choking on them?”

The group of students hovering nearby let out a ripple of laughter at your jab, but the boy’s face darkened. He took a step closer, anger snapping through his forced grin. “Careful. Just because you’ve got a sharp tongue doesn’t mean anyone here actually respects you. Without-”

“Without what?” you cut in smoothly. “Without the ability to trip over your own ego every time you open your mouth? Trust me, you’ve got the market cornered on that.”

Enzo had been passing by with Blaise, headed toward the Quidditch pitch. He wasn’t usually the type to meddle unless he saw you needed him. He knew you enjoyed slicing people apart with words too much to want an audience cutting in. But as he drifted closer, his expression sharpening, he slowed his stride.

He’d seen the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers twitched as if itching for your wand. He recognized the edge in your voice. You were moments away from either walking away victorious or escalating the whole thing.

And then the boy shoved you. Hard.

You stumbled back against the fountain’s edge, the stone digging into your spine as the breath left your lungs. Gasps echoed around the courtyard. For a moment, the world seemed to still.

And then Enzo was there.

His hand caught the Hufflepuff’s shoulder before the boy could step back, his grip iron, his usually lazy expression stripped away to something colder, harder. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes glittering with fury.

“Big mistake,” Enzo said, voice low but carrying enough weight that the surrounding students fell silent.

The boy scoffed, trying to shrug him off. “Stay out of it, Berkshire-”

Enzo didn’t wait. His fist connected with the boy’s nose with a sickening crack, the sound echoing in the courtyard. Blood spurted instantly, and the Hufflepuff yelped, clutching his face as he stumbled backward.

“You don’t touch her,” Enzo growled, stepping forward, wand already in his free hand. “Ever.”

The boy tried to spit something out through the blood, but Enzo flicked his wand faster than thought. “Levicorpus.”

The Hufflepuff was yanked upside down by his ankle, dangling in mid-air as his robes fell over his face. Gasps and laughter burst from the watching crowd, a mix of horror and amusement at the sight of him flailing, blood dripping toward the stone.

Enzo stood casually beneath him, wand raised with easy precision, his expression deadly calm. “You thought pushing her made you look powerful? Let’s see how powerful you look bleeding all over the courtyard while everyone laughs.”

The boy flailed, choking out something like a plea, but Enzo only tilted his head, calculating. “Should I drop you on your head? Might not make a difference, you’d hardly lose much.”

You straightened, still catching your breath, but the sight before you made satisfaction curl in your chest. “That’s enough,” you said, your voice slicing through the noise.

Enzo flicked his wand, and the boy fell. Hard. He landed in a heap, groaning, face a mess of blood and humiliation. No one moved to help him. He staggered to his feet, muttering threats he clearly didn’t have the courage to carry through, before stumbling off toward the castle, the laughter of bystanders following him all the way.

The courtyard buzzed, whispers rising, but Enzo ignored them. He turned to you, expression softening the moment his eyes landed on your face.

“You all right?” His voice was lower now, quieter, like he wanted only you to hear it.

You smirked faintly, brushing dust from your robes. “I was handling him. But I admit, you made a point.”

Enzo’s lips twitched, the beginnings of his usual lazy grin creeping back. “Couldn’t resist. I don’t like seeing anyone put hands on you.” His eyes darkened again briefly, but he shook it off, sliding his wand back into his pocket.

You stepped closer, your hand brushing his wrist. “I know. And I like it when you remind people not to underestimate me...or us.”

That grin widened, slow and boyish now, but with that dangerous undertone that made your heart race. “Yeah?”

You rose onto your toes, kissing him without hesitation. It was quick but charged, your fingers curling into his collar as his hand slid to your hip, steadying you. The kiss left him smirking when you pulled away, his forehead brushing yours.

“Thanks,” you murmured against his lips.

“Anytime,” he said softly. “Though next time, maybe hex him yourself before I get the chance. I’d hate to think I’m hogging all the fun.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you slipped your hand into his. The crowd still whispered, still watched, but neither of you cared. Together, you walked away across the courtyard, his thumb brushing lazy circles across your skin, his presence warm and steady at your side.

And though the Hufflepuff’s bloody stumble would no doubt fuel gossip for weeks, everyone who’d seen knew one thing for certain, Enzo Berkshire never let anyone touch what mattered to him.

Draco Malfoy

The dungeons were quiet that afternoon, corridors slick with damp air that clung to stone like a second skin. The torchlight flickered as you strode toward the Slytherin common room, your voice sharp, cutting through the stillness as you faced off with a Ravenclaw boy who had been trailing you since class let out.

“I don’t need a lecture from someone who barely scraped an ‘Acceptable’ on his last essay,” you said icily, your arms crossed. “Especially not about how I ‘cheated’ my way to the top marks. If you’re too thick to keep up, that’s your problem.”

The boy’s face flushed, his smug expression faltering as a couple of Slytherins nearby slowed their pace to listen in. “Everyone knows you’ve got professors wrapped around your finger,” he snapped, voice pitched louder than necessary. “You smile and they look the other way. You don’t earn those grades. You manipulate your way into them.”

You smirked, tilting your head as though he were nothing more than an insect buzzing in your ear. “I manipulate nothing. I just have the brain to succeed and the discipline you’ve never had. But please, keep telling yourself fairy tales. Maybe one day you’ll believe them enough to sleep at night.”

The few onlookers chuckled under their breath, which only made the Ravenclaw stiffen, his jaw clenched tight. He stepped closer, invading your space with a sneer. “You think you’re untouchable. I’ll prove you’re not.”

And then he shoved you.

The impact sent your back into the cold dungeon wall, hard enough to sting, your books slipping from your arms and scattering across the floor. A sharp hiss of pain escaped your lips before you could bite it back.

The corridor went silent.

“Big mistake,” a voice drawled from behind the Ravenclaw, silk-smooth but laced with something dark.

The boy turned, startled, and paled when he saw Draco Malfoy standing there. He hadn’t noticed him approach, but you had. You always did. Draco’s pale hair glimmered under the torchlight, his grey eyes cold and narrowed as he took in the scene. His hand was already on his wand.

“I’d advise you to step away,” Draco said softly, his tone even but dripping with menace. “Before you regret being born.”

The Ravenclaw scoffed, though his voice wavered. “What? Going to hex me because your little girlfriend can’t take criticism?”

Draco’s expression didn’t shift, but his wand moved with lightning speed. “Expelliarmus.”

The Ravenclaw’s wand flew from his grip and clattered across the stone floor. Draco advanced before the boy could react, shoving him hard against the opposite wall with surprising force. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and Draco leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper only the boy could hear.

“You pathetic little coward. You put your hands on her, and you think you’re walking away from this?” His grip tightened on the boy’s collar, his wand pressing against his jaw. “Touch her again, and I’ll make sure you don’t even remember how to spell your own name.”

The boy sputtered, trying to twist free, but Draco slammed him back once more, wand digging into his skin. His voice sharpened into a hiss: “Crucio may be forbidden here, but don’t tempt me. I have a dozen other curses that would leave you wishing for it instead.”

The Ravenclaw’s bravado crumbled, fear stark in his eyes. He muttered an apology, his words barely audible.

“Louder,” Draco demanded.

“I-I’m sorry!” the boy stammered.

Draco held him there for another beat, letting the weight of the humiliation sink in. Then he shoved him aside like he was worth less than the dirt on his shoes. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

The boy didn’t hesitate. He scrambled for his wand and bolted down the corridor, the sound of his retreat echoing against the stone.

The moment he was gone, Draco exhaled slowly, shoulders still tense, jaw sharp with restrained fury. His eyes softened only when they found you. He crouched, gathering the books you’d dropped, his fingers brushing over the scuffed covers before he stood and held them out.

“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly, the sharp edge of anger still lingering in his voice, though it wasn’t directed at you.

You shook your head, straightening, though the faint ache in your back pulsed. “I’m fine. He’ll be worse off than me.”

Draco’s lips quirked, a ghost of a smirk finally tugging at his mouth. “Of course he will. People don’t deserve to walk away unscathed after putting their hands on you.”

You stepped closer, your eyes glinting. “You were brutal.”

He tilted his chin, pride flickering across his features. “He deserved worse. But I promised you I’d stop hexing people unconscious in public.”

That made you laugh, low and amused. “And what would you have done if I wasn’t here to stop you?”

His smirk widened into something sharper. “You don’t want to know.”

You reached for the books in his hands, but instead of taking them, you rose onto your toes, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was equal parts thank-you and something more. Draco froze for only a second before he leaned into it, the tension in his body easing as his free hand found your waist. The kiss was deep, claiming, his relief and his anger melting into it all at once.

When you pulled back, your foreheads brushed, and his smirk returned in full. “If that’s how you thank me,” he murmured, voice low, “I should fight your battles more often.”

You arched a brow, amused. “I didn’t need saving.”

“I know,” he said, his tone softening in a way he reserved only for you. “But you’ll forgive me for enjoying it, won’t you?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you kissed him again, slower this time. “This time.”

Together, you started back toward the common room, his arm sliding over your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. And though his expression returned to its usual cool composure when others glanced your way, you felt the way his grip tightened protectively, the silent promise written in every step: no one would dare touch you again.

Blaise Zabini

The Great Hall was almost empty after dinner, the long tables scattered with crumbs and the faint glow of candles hovering overhead. You had stayed behind to finish a conversation you hadn’t asked for, one that had escalated far quicker than you anticipated.

A seventh-year Gryffindor had cornered you near the end of the Slytherin table, his voice raised just enough that it bounced off the enchanted ceiling. He was sneering, his arms crossed, trying to make himself look taller than he already was.

“You think you’re clever because you get away with everything,” he spat. “Because professors pretend not to notice when you’re bending the rules. It’s pathetic! Your entire House is pathetic. You only survive because no one’s brave enough to call you out.”

You leaned against the table with deliberate ease, your tone smooth and sharp as a dagger. “That’s funny. You’ve been calling me out for the last five minutes, and yet here you are, red-faced, desperate, and sounding like a toddler denied a sweet. If that’s bravery, then perhaps Gryffindor needs a new standard.”

A few stragglers lingering at the Hufflepuff table snickered. The Gryffindor stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Keep running your mouth, and see what happens when you don’t have half your House to back you.”

You arched a brow, your smirk unshaken. “You’re welcome to try. But if you’re this rattled by a few truths, I can’t imagine what you’d do in a real duel. Cry, maybe? Or faint?”

The boy’s cheeks flushed crimson, and before you could finish savoring his reaction, he shoved you. Hard.

Your body slammed against the edge of the table, the wood digging into your hip as you caught yourself with your hands. The sound echoed in the Hall, snapping every lingering gaze in your direction. For a moment, your breath hitched, the sting flaring across your ribs.

And then you saw him.

Blaise Zabini was lounging near the doorway, having been on his way out. He had been watching from the shadows, one hand in his pocket, a faintly amused smirk playing on his lips as you sliced the Gryffindor with words. He loved watching you work, loved the way you never faltered. But the moment he saw you pushed, his smile vanished.

He crossed the room in measured, purposeful strides, each step echoing. The air shifted, colder somehow, as his calm composure settled into something razor-sharp.

“You must be very stupid,” Blaise said lazily, though his voice carried, smooth and lethal. “Or very tired of breathing.”

The Gryffindor turned, startled. “Stay out of this, Zabini. This isn’t your fight-”

Blaise’s wand was already in his hand, his expression unreadable. “You put your hands on her. That makes it my fight.”

Before the boy could react, Blaise flicked his wrist. “Petrificus Totalus.”

The Gryffindor froze mid-step, his body locking rigid before toppling backward onto the stone floor with a resounding thud. His eyes widened in silent panic, only able to roll in their sockets as the rest of him stayed paralyzed.

Blaise strolled closer, crouching beside him with infuriating calm. “Do you know what your problem is?” His voice was low, conversational, as if he were discussing the weather. “You mistake volume for strength. You mistake arrogance for courage. And worst of all...” his gaze darkened, “...you thought you could lay a hand on her.”

He rose, dusting an imaginary speck from his sleeve, and gave the Gryffindor a cold, dismissive glance. “Consider this your warning. Next time, I won’t stop at a body bind.”

With another flick of his wand, the spell lifted. The boy scrambled up, pale and shaken, blood rushing back to his limbs awkwardly. He muttered a half-formed insult, but his voice cracked, and he didn’t dare look back as he bolted out of the Hall.

The watching students whispered furiously, the story already beginning to spread, but Blaise ignored them. His eyes went immediately to you.

“Are you hurt?” His tone softened, the edge gone, though his hand still gripped his wand as if he wasn’t ready to put it away just yet.

You straightened, brushing the dust from your robes, your smirk slowly returning. “I’ve been through worse. But he won’t forget that little demonstration.”

Blaise’s lips curved into that easy, devastating grin, the one that always melted the chill he wrapped himself in. “Good. Let him remember who he’s dealing with.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “And who he’s dealing with is mine.”

That grin widened, and his eyes gleamed with something far warmer than the ice he’d shown the Gryffindor. “I should hope so.”

You reached up, sliding your fingers into the front of his collar, and pulled him down into a kiss. It was deliberate, slow at first, then deepening as his free hand came to rest against your waist. The kiss lingered, the adrenaline humming between you both, until you broke away just enough to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his once more.

Blaise chuckled under his breath, low and smooth, his forehead leaning against yours. “Anytime. Though honestly...” he tilted his head, eyes glittering with amusement, “...you had him gutted with words long before I bothered to step in.”

You smirked. “Maybe. But I like it when you remind people why they shouldn’t try.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, before finally tucking his wand away and sliding an arm around your shoulders as though the whole scene hadn’t just happened. The Great Hall buzzed behind you, students whispering about the Gryffindor’s humiliation, but Blaise guided you toward the doors without a second glance.

To anyone watching, his expression was casual, detached, almost bored. But the way he kept his arm tight around you told the truth, that if anyone else even thought of touching you, Blaise Zabini would be there, calm smile and all, to make sure they never did again.

Tom Riddle

You had always known Tom was protective. Not in the obvious way. He didn’t hover or declare his attachment for all to hear. No, Tom Riddle’s protectiveness was colder, more dangerous. It hid beneath the surface until someone was foolish enough to test the boundaries. And that evening in the corridor outside the library, someone did.

It started as a sharp exchange of words. You were leaning against the stone wall, robes loose at the shoulders, eyes narrowed on the Ravenclaw boy standing opposite you. His tone was smug, too smug for his own good, and his accusations had already passed the point of irritating.

“You’ve been copying, everyone knows it,” he said with a sneer. “Don’t think you can act cleverer than you are just because you’ve got the Slytherin lot behind you.”

Your laugh was soft and dangerous. “Copying? From you? Please. If I wanted mediocrity on parchment, I’d transfigure a rat to hold a quill.”

The Ravenclaw’s jaw clenched, but you weren’t finished. You stepped closer, voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “You can’t stomach the idea that someone might simply be sharper than you. That your best effort still looks like a child’s scribble beside mine. And now you’re angry enough to embarrass yourself in a hallway like this. Pathetic.”

His face flushed a violent red. You had struck deep. That was always your gift, knowing exactly where the wound lay and cutting until the other bled. The Ravenclaw’s voice rose, loud enough that a few passing students slowed.

“You filthy-” He didn’t finish. His hand shot out, shoving you hard in the shoulder. The impact sent you back against the wall, stone biting into your spine.

And that was when the corridor chilled.

Tom had arrived silently, like a shadow uncoiling from the darkness near the library doors. His expression was unreadable, a mask of composed stillness, but his eyes, those dark, bottomless eyes, burned as they fixed on the Ravenclaw.

You straightened slowly, refusing to show pain, your gaze flicking to Tom’s. He didn’t look at you. His entire focus was on the boy who had dared touch what was his.

The Ravenclaw faltered under the weight of that stare, his bravado wavering. “I...she-”

“On your knees,” Tom said softly.

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even loud. But there was command in it, heavy and irresistible. The boy’s legs buckled before he could stop himself, and he crashed to the floor, palms scraping the stone. His face twisted with confusion, shame, and sudden fear.

Tom stepped forward, each movement measured, as though he had all the time in the world. He crouched, face level with the trembling Ravenclaw, voice low and venomous.

“You thought to put your hands on her? To raise your voice at her? You forget your place.”

The boy tried to sputter a protest, but Tom’s hand closed around his throat—not tight enough to choke, but enough to silence. “You’ll regret breathing in the same corridor as her,” Tom murmured. “Shall I remind you how fragile the human body is?”

You saw the flick of Tom’s wand, casual, elegant. The Ravenclaw jerked violently as a silent hex took hold, his body twisting in agony, muscles convulsing. The boy gasped for air as his head knocked against the floor.

Tom released his throat and stood, looking down at the writhing figure with disgust. “Filth,” he said flatly. “If you think this hurts, consider how fortunate you are that I lack the time to demonstrate everything I know.”

The Ravenclaw whimpered, broken of all arrogance. Tom flicked his wand again, and the spell released him. He lay gasping on the floor, eyes wide with terror.

“Crawl,” Tom ordered, his tone glacial. “Crawl away before I change my mind.”

The boy scrambled up, dragging himself down the corridor, too frightened to run upright. His robes caught on the stone floor as he fled.

The silence that followed was thick. Tom finally turned to you. His gaze softened, only slightly, when it landed on your face. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” You tilted your chin. “Just a push.”

His eyes swept over you anyway, checking, as if he didn’t quite believe you. Then he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the controlled fury still radiating off him.

“You should have let me handle him sooner,” Tom said quietly.

“I had it under control,” you replied. A small smile tugged at your mouth despite the tension in your chest. “You know I don’t lose arguments.”

Something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes. “Perhaps not. But words can only do so much.”

Your breath caught when his hand brushed your jaw, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness. The fury in him hadn’t ebbed, but it was leashed now, redirected.

You leaned in and kissed him, soft at first, then lingering, a silent thank you, an acknowledgement of what he’d done without needing to put it into words. His lips pressed back firmly, claiming, as if reminding you that no one else would ever dare what that Ravenclaw had tried.

When you finally pulled back, Tom’s expression had returned to its cold composure, though his eyes betrayed a spark of satisfaction.

“Next time,” he said smoothly, “don’t waste your energy on insects. Let me crush them.”

You smirked faintly, though your hand still rested lightly against his chest. “And miss the chance to cut them down myself? Hardly.”

He studied you for a moment, that unnerving gaze dissecting everything you were, before a faint, rare smile curved his mouth. “Very well. But the moment anyone touches you...” his voice dropped lower, almost dangerous again, “...they forfeit the right to walk away.”

You knew he meant it. You also knew, in some dark and twisted part of yourself, that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He guffaws. Actually guffaws, like you’ve just suggested he go jump in the Thames. “I think not,” he says. “I have a girlfriend.” 

A tiny laugh startles out of you. “Yeah, I’m aware. You alright?” 

Now he gives you a smile. Or his best attempt at one, but James has always been a terrible actor, and the false grin manifests as a grimace. “M’good, thanks.” 

He starts to turn back towards his friends, but you pull on his sleeve. 

“C’mon, Jamie,” you urge. “It’s time to go, yeah?” James turns around, looking truly scandalized now. You give his arm a tug. “Let’s go home.” 

“No,” he insists, firmer than you knew could be managed with a slur. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. She’s waiting at my home, ‘nd I love her very much. Leave me alone.” 

“James,” you laugh. “Honey, it’s me.” 

“Pads.” He turns around, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulders like he needs to hold onto something lest you try and haul him away. “Pads, this woman is trying to take me home. Tell ‘er I have a girlfriend.” 

Your mouth drops open. “James!” 

Sirius turns slowly, raking his gaze over you. He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Get lost, babe. This one’s taken.” 

Then he jolts and cuts a glare towards Remus, who sips from his drink innocently. “Be nice,” he reminds his boyfriend, foot moving back under his own chair. 

Sirius sighs, rolling his eyes. “Prongs,” he says with great reluctance, “this is your girlfriend.” 

Even drunk, James knows enough to be suspicious of his friend when he’s in a mischief-making mood. He squints at Sirius. “My girlfriend s’at home,” he reasons. 

“Your girlfriend is here,” Sirius says evenly, and you can’t blame James for his skepticism; if you weren’t fully aware that you are here, you wouldn’t trust Sirius’ deadpan stare either. 

“I texted her, James,” Remus says helpfully. “She’s here because I told her where we were.” 

Your boyfriend’s lips part, and he turns to you with something between joy and heartache—but the shock of both—written all over his face. “Sweetheart,” he cries, “it’s you!” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, letting him tug you forward by the hips into an awkward hug. You set a consoling hand on top of his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” 

“My sweetheart,” he mumbles into your stomach. “I didn’t know it was you, angel. Of course I’ll go home with you.” 

“Glad to hear it.” You pat his back, heat rising to your cheeks at the display. 

James turns his head, still gripping you tightly so the side of his face is pressed to your front. “You texted her for me?” he asks Remus, maudlin.

“Well, I texted her because I didn’t feel like walking in the opposite direction of our flat to carry you home,” Remus says, then shrugs. “But for you too, sure.” 

“Thank you, Moony,” James croons. 

Remus turns to hide a smile, and you take James’ head in your hands, angling his face back up towards you. “Hi, handsome,” you try again. “Ready to go home?” 

He bobs his head happily, clambering out of his seat and whistling rowdily when you slip an arm around his waist to help support him. You wonder if the heat from your face could be harvested to power a hospital or something. You wave goodbye to his friends as James calls over your shoulder how much he’ll miss them until he sees them tomorrow. 

“M’so excited to go home, baby.” He leans into your side as you maneuver the both of you out the door of the pub. “I’ve been dying to get home to you. You should’a heard, earlier, I was talking to this other girl ‘nd I told her, ‘I’m just dying to get home to my girlfriend’.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you say. “That was me.” 

Soft music played on the speakers through the small cafe. The current song merged with the pattering rain from outside, creating a soothing atmosphere.

You sat on the comfortable seats, beside the raindrop covered window. You were glad you entered the cafe before the weather had switched up so harshly.

Every now and then a customer would enter the cafe, the biting cold from the miserable day would rush into the warm room for a brief moment. Your short sleeves doing very little against the cold breeze, but the steaming coffee kept your hands warm.

The rain poured heavily down on the town street, dark grey clouds covered the once blue sky. After the room had warmed back up from the intrusion of the last customer, the door opened again.

A drenched dark haired man quickly entered, shutting the door behind him. His black leather jacket dripped rainwater onto the floor as he walked towards the counter with a wide grin.

He stood leaned against the counter as he waited for his drink, chatting charmingly to the barista with an easy smile despite his soaked state.

The man took his coffee and walked through the cafe like he'd paced the building before. His grey eyes scanned the room and locked onto yours. His smile made the corner of his eyes crinkle, and you saw the slightest dip of a dimple on his cheek.

"Hi there, do you mind?" He tilted his head towards the seat opposite you.

You flashed him a polite smile. "No, no of course" You waved your hand towards the seat, sitting up from your relaxed posture.

"Thanks..." He trailed off and you answered your name with a smile.

"Sirius. Lovely to meet you" He introduced as he placed his coffee down on the small wooden between you both.

He ran a hand through his long hair, a few droplets of water fell onto his dark shirt beneath his jacket. Your gaze flickered over his beautifully symmetrical face and silently wondered what a guy like him was doing in such a boring town like this one.

His nose twitched and his eyes darted to yours. "Sweet pea." He said, without explanation and you furrowed your brows.

"Uh- What?" You asked, leaned back in your seat, eyeing him somewhat cautiously.

"Sorry, sorry. You- You smell like sweet peas." He answered with a smile, like he knew he sounded strange but still didn't further explain.

"Oh, it's my perfume, are- are you allergic?" You shuffled back in your seat a bit more, worried you might kill the attractive man.

"No. I've just never met a girl who smelt as sweet as you" He flashed you a smile and you scrunched your nose up.

"You're really weird" You admitted without thinking and Sirius laughed loudly, throwing his head back without a care.

You couldn't help it but the sight of his unabashed laughter and his mumbled agreement made a smile grow on your lips.

Brushing off the awkward beginning to your conversation, you both sat in the warm cozy cafe for much longer than either of you originally meant to.